Simone's I N T E R L U D E
by Beginner'sFortune
Summary: her interludes were his only E S C A P E .. Alvarez/OFC
1. Chapter 1

**Simone`s I N T E R L U D E «**

**Author Note « **_Allow yourself to explore outside the realms of which you are accustomed to. _

**Disclaimer « **I don't own the character, Miguel Alvarez. I do, however, own Simone.

**Warning « **Don't steal.

_To Simone, because you understand why I wrote this._

* * *

_**her interludes were his only E S C A P E ..**_

**01;**

_**'Esto es infierno verdadero, nene**_**(1)**_**.'**_

The thick, stagnant air of solitary confinement was suffocating. Alvarez awoke, panicking as the cold sweat clung to his bare chest. His eyes danced around cautiously, remembering all too well what woke him.

Hell.

The burning flush of his skin and the screeching voices in his head shook him to his core. He couldn't breathe. His lungs are filled with smoke, torment, and the overwhelming sin that engulfed his metaphysical body.

_**'Esto no es sueño, Miguelito**_**(2)**_**.'**_

He heard of other inmates' brief encounters with Hell. The flames burned them alive and the horrible screams – recognizable, real, and constant.

His body turned on his cot.

Lights out could not lull the restless Alvarez back to sleep. His mind, those vivid images of his past, his regrets prevented him from a true night's sleep. The grave images of a bloodied Rivera, a splash of red bleeding through, caused him to shrink back to the wall nearby. He gripped the sheets and said a silent prayer, yet his chest tightened from the screams.

_**'Nunca saldría de aquí.**_**(3)**_**'**_

He closed his eyes solemnly. He blocked out the kaleidoscope of real and false images of violence that bloodied his hands. He turned again on his cot and whimpered from the images of his makeshift shank; the slicing cutting through flesh of a throat cleanly, and the blood that painted his hands and the floor of Em City. Just to survive again, he killed a hermano.

He griped at his survivor instincts, his addictive lust to live, even in this dangerous world where he was an outcast and on alert for the next shank coming in his direction. He knew without a shadow of doubt, the Latinos would be out for his blood if he were ever let out of solitary, but he doubted he would this time. These walls would kill him before Guerra would.

He groaned at the sudden weight on his chest. The fear was setting in again. This cell might be the last place he lived.

_**'Miguel, how do you say…'I need you to stay'. Please, tell me.'**_

His heart pounded vigorously, but he blocked the distinct voice out. He could take the others', but not this one; yet, his mind traveled to where he tasted freedom. Freedom – the bittersweet, yet addictive drug that was better than anything he had. Better than Maritza. The LSD he consumed his first year in Oz.

The vast aromas of different cities, the thrill of a chase, the escape of what his life has become, the fear of being caught, and the will to finally live. Things Oz no longer could take from him, no matter the glimmer of a sharpened object or another personal betrayal courtesy of El Norte.

He tried to gasp for more air, but a weight rested dangerously on his lungs. As if Diablo's hoofs held him down, demanding him to come back to Hell with him.

He choked out a laugh. "Diablo, don't chu know, I'm already there, baby."

The pressure went away.

He closed his eyes and tried to flush out memories of the sharp metal digging into the eyes of Rivera or the last breath his son took before God took the last remnants of freedom away. His mind replaced haunting thoughts with the New York's lights. The intense smells of pizzerias infused with the rancid stench of back alley garbage.

The night he traveled through New York after his escape.

_**'I traveled to New York just to find you.'**_

Then he remembered. Her. The beautiful brown eyes that matched his. The one dimple that formed because of her warm smile, the rise and fall of her chest from her laughter, the intoxicating ways her body moved close to him.

_It was late night at a diner outside of the hustle and bustle of the city and their blinding lights. He thought he was crazy to crave the darkness again, but somehow seclusion soothed him that night. He had been on the run for a week and a bus dropped him off in a deserted town._

_He slipped into the booth and pulled out on his last cigarette, the best tasting one he ever had. _

_**'Do you have a light? Remembered when I said that?'**_

_Her. __**Simone**__. Her. She was different than what he could imagine with Maritza. Her pecan colored flesh glowed, as did her warm smile. It rushed right through him the first time, but he kept up his guard, watching like a hawk for anyone that remotely resembled a cop. It was dangerous for him to stop anywhere, but his stomach felt as if it was about to turn inward. He knew that for the first time, he didn't have to resort to drinking his own urine to survive. A quick bite would suffice his hunger, and then he'd move until he was finally at the End of the Earth. Tierra del Fuego._

He avoided thoughts of her, but his mind betrayed him. She was the first person to utter a word to him when he was free. It had been awhile since Miguel had been this physically close to a woman.

**Maritza.** Three years since he had seen the girlfriend he got arrested with, and when he really needed to, he couldn't remember her.

She was now a distant memory in mind of chaos.

_**'Miguel…'**_

The ethereal beauty stood beside his bed, wearing the white sundress she wore the first night they'd meant. God, it illuminated the darkened space.

His tongue laves his pink lips, his brown eyes wanting, needing to touch her and run his hands over her curves. Touching was too important to him right now to make sense of what he really saw.

_**'Missed me?'**_

"Yes," he choked. He ran his hands over his face. She smirked and leaned down to trace the scar on his cheek.

_**'You lied to me the first time about how you got this.'**_

"I had to, 'cause you wouldn't have got it." The story behind his scar is too dark and deep for such an innocent creature like her. He reached out to touch the trimmings of her short dress, but she inched away from him. She pouted and wagged her finger teasingly.

_**'I knew who you were the first day I met you, but it was better if we both lied.'**_

"Yeah…" he said gruffly. "Is that why you here? To haunt me too, nena."

_**'Now how is little, ol' me going to haunt the infamous inmate, Miguel Alvarez, the pendejo on the lamb for six months? You were so close too, mi amante**_**(4)**_**. The End of the Earth, man, what happened?'**_

"They were already waitin' for me, pinche pendejos(5)." He muttered and shook his head. "Knew exactly where I was, Mone, nena. I shouldn't have stayed in Texas that fuckin' long."

_**'No, you and your mouth should have stay where it was…attached to my pussy, you dumbfuck.'**_

Her soft laughter floated in the room.

_**'I told you to stay, but you were too addicted. To addicted to the chase.'**_

"I couldn't risk it."

_**'Risk stayin'? You risked leavin', now you're back here.'**_

She lightly touched his chest, her nail scraping the brown, hardening nub.

_**'Tell me you missed me, Miguel.'**_

She swooped down, as her long, silky hair fanned his chest, down to his stomach. She giggled and her tongue swept over the scar on his chest.

"Mmm…yeah." He hardened from her torturous touch. "Yeah, I missed you, nena."

She directed her gaze towards him. Her lips curled into a smirk.

_**'You should have stayed.'**_

His eyes shut when her mouth closed around his nipple, but gasped when the incredible, hot sensation was replaced with a cooling breeze.

Eyes opening, he was no longer welcomed with her image. He gasped and looked around, eyes burning, anger building and flush ghosting on his chest.

He threw the pillow across the room and banged his fist against the wall, his knuckles becoming swollen and crimson with blood. He knew what his mind has done to him. Instead of haunting him for his past, from the world he lived in, he was bounded and mocked by what he had and could have. **Simone**.

He cringed at the ache just her name had given him. Forever punished with moments, memories, and essential interludes of excitement, lust, need, pain, and touch, knowing that in a blink of an eye, they were not real.

_**'Esto es infierno verdadero, nene.'**_

Escape from this Hell. He was strangely addicted to the mind fucking, because it gave him just that. Escape.

He ran his hands over his face and laughed frenziedly. Simone, Simone, Simone.

* * *

(1) This is true hell, baby.

(2)This is not dream, Miguelito.

(3) You'd never leave here

(4) my lover

(5) fucking assholes


	2. Chapter 2

**02;**

**Philly, 6 months ago**

"_What is yo name? You never told me."_

"_Call me Eddie."_

_Alvarez took a toke of his cigarette and looked up into the night. He never noticed it before, but the outskirts of Philadelphia revealed something novel, refreshing to see. – stars. It gave him perspective, the idea of new horizons. His senses grew, the addictive nature of liberation coming over him. He extended his hands out and emptied the air in his lungs with a scream. He heard her anxious laugh, and turned to smile crookedly at her._

"_Mone, you laughin' at me?" He gestured to himself. His eyes scanned for emotions in hers, but the telltale sign in them told him what he needed to clear up. "Mone, you never told me 'bout tha shit you got into in tha City. I mean, your accent…you Southern. Why you up here…what are you gettin' away from?"_

_She shrugged._

"_I'm gettin' away from myself." She smiled sheepishly and touched his hand, not sure if he recoil back; when he didn't, she wrinkled her nose. "__**Eddie**__, listen. I never had to fuckin' kill a man befo', but- I'm sorry I got you involved in this. I'm so sorry."_

_Alvarez dropped the cigarette in the dirt and shook his head. "I chose to get involved, Mone, I-I chose to get entangled wit' you."_

"_But why?" She leaned against the rusted Oldsmobile. The only thing keeping her warm was her low cut blouse and her dangerously short skirt. "You know what I am."_

"_Nah, I don't." His accent was thick, but pained. "You did what you had to, to survive. Fuck, you killed tha mothafucka, before he could kill you, and baby, he was gonna kill you. I seen it in his eyes. It's a scary thing, but you just feel guilt 'cause you survived, that nature to survive, like a blessin' and a curse, but that scumfuck had to die."_

**Present**

Miguel cowered in the corner of the closed-in cell. Grey, cold with only the air of poor ventilation. The harsh sound of his breathing echoed in his head. He rose up to empty the contents of his stomach in the metal toilet.

When he wasn't screaming and fighting to be let out, he wailed like a baby. Sometimes his mind allowed visitation with his grandfather, who spent hours telling him how he made a fucking mess of his life. The dead motherfucker knew exactly what to say to his nieto when he was in solitary.

In rare moments, he held his baby son against his chest and pleaded with God to give his son one more chance. The child left his arms, and it was short of a miracle he didn't attempt to hang himself.

Now, he passed time, combing the walls to weaken the foundations, but stopped when the tips of his fingers were raw.

'_**Miguel, I know you told me to not come here, but I had to see you again.'**_

He stared at the crouching woman in front of him, recognizing her as Simone. The second visit since he got back in solitary. "I told you not to come tha fuck here, Mone."

'_**Stop actin' like that. I'm here, 'cause you want me to be here.'**_

"I don't want you to be here, Mone." His arms rest against the wall. "Thought you be somewhere in Nicaragua, baskin' in tha sun and drinkin' a drink on tha beach, ah free, baby."

'_**Why would I be there, if you ain't?'**_

"'Cause you saved up six months to get there."

'_**I'm not there. Not without you. It wouldn't be right.'**_

Simone reached for his hands, interlacing them in hers. She examined them closely and pouted.

'_**Stop doin' this to yourself.'**_

She kissed the tips of fingers.

He did not understand why these visions of her were unlike the rest. He was not berated, insulted, or tortured, day in and day out. He knew firsthand how fiery and cutthroat she could be, but he did not see her in that light. Yet, he was haunted by the thought of how she tasted like freedom. Simone was addictive, and heady to all of his five senses. He refrained from the urges to take her into his grasp, and never let go.

"I have to get out of here. I can't fuckin' take it. They put me right back where my grandfatha rotted."

'_**Remember you told me 'bout our nature to survive?'**_

She proceeded when he nodded.

'_**Baby, you have to survive in here, 'cause...'**_ She stopped. _**'Baby, don't let this be your end, you will have a life after this.'**_

Miguel chuckled in her attempt to sooth him. He was up for parole in the next year, but never considered that to be his pass out of here.

"Nah, I'm not goin' to have a life after this. I'm leavin' in a body bag, either by shank to tha heart or strapped down to someone's electric chair."

Her brow furrowed.

'_**You're not goin' to die in here. I won't let you.'**_

He closed his eyes and screamed.

**New York City, 6 months ago**

"_Do you have a light?" She played with her hair, and rested against the beam in the diner._

_The early morning chill went through his body, so did the woman's shapely body. Although she wore a long coat, her clothing of choice – a white, blouse with a plunging neckline, a black miniskirt riding up her thick thighs, and white, six -inch stilettos, earned her wanton glares. The sparkle of her brown eyes held an allure, an invitation to them. He was unsure what exactly what she wanted._

_Alvarez shrugged his shoulders. He produced a cigarette lighter and lit the Marlboro stick that angled out of her bright red lips. _

_He realized the energy he got from her. 'She was a puta__(1)__.'_

"_Thanks, baby." Her approaching walk held a suggestive wiggle; her skirt shifted against her hips and her breasts had a natural bounce._

"_What's yo name? I never seen you hear befo'?"_

_Alvarez drank his coffee and spoke, "Don't got one."_

"_Ooh, you one of those, huh?" She snorted. "Did you travel here?" Her nails ran across the nape of his neck. "I could show you a good time."_

_He looked her up, quietly in thought. "Get tha fuck away from me."_

_She sucked her teeth. "Aye, don't be actin' too proud now. You prob'ly here, far from where you supposed to be, searchin' for somethin' here, why don't you go all out and enjoy tha freedom?"_

* * *

(1) whore; prostitute


End file.
